


Silver Linings

by dizzy_dim



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Oneshot, Post-Canon, Reconciliation, gen - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 07:10:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7425007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzy_dim/pseuds/dizzy_dim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A familiar face greets the former mayor upon her release from prison.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silver Linings

.

  
It's 3:09 p.m. when he arrives somewhere near the outskirts of Downtown and the sky is imposing and gray and uncertain; just like the building the rapidly grows into full view as he nears his destination. He parks his car next to the bit of sidewalk where a fence starts and a little patch of grass goes from a dry green to a lifeless yellow and gets out.

  
The fence's height outmatches his own by a good four or five feet and looks rather weathered; the diamond pattern broken up and speckled with rust. The barbed wire that decorates it seems brand new though, and he imagines that if the normal afternoon sun had been present it'd be shining in his eyes right around now.

  
He checks his watch again. _3:16_

  
He leans against the gate with his back to the prison, causing the chain link metal to rattle loudly. Gazing out into the street, Leodore realizes that his car is one of the only vehicles currently in sight. The lonely atmosphere coupled with gloomy overcast makes the place bare a striking resemblance to Cliffside all those months ago; the only difference between them being that here it's dead silent.

  
The gate rattles again, but he's hasn't moved and he looks down to see her standing there, alone.  
She looks virtually identical to the last time he saw her; with the exception of her clothes. Gone now is the garish orange jumpsuit, and in its place is one of her typical dresses.  
But there's something else there, too. There's a tiredness about her; a weariness that he can't exactly place. He thinks that it might be somewhere in the way that she's standing; shoulders drooping as she folds into herself. Or maybe it's in the way she's looking at him right now; lidded and passive and a little glazed over.  
He clears his throat.

  
"Dawn."  
"Leodore."  
"Good to see you again."  
"Mm." She makes a noncommittal noise. "You actually came."  
"Why wouldn't I ? It seems like a pretty special occasion."  
"I can think of a few reasons," She shrugs. "But if I got started then we'd be here all day."  
"Well, we do have a long drive ahead of us..." He taps on the window of the passengers seat. "If you're still up for it, that is."

  
She looks at him like she's about to say something, or glare at him or at the very least roll her eyes, but instead the ewe does none of those things, and walks toward the car without a word; hooves clicking on crumbling concrete.

  
.

  
The drive from the Zootopia Criminal Correction Facility to the subway station will take around two and a half hours.  
For the first fifteen minutes of those two and a half hours; the car is silent.  
Her eyes wander over to the radio, and she wonders if they broadcasted her release today. The thought makes her feel a little sick, so she tries to focus on something else.

  
It's then; Dawn realizes, that in all their time together he's never been this quiet. She'd never noticed how easily she'd grown used to his near incessant chattering and readability. The man wears everything in his head on his face and on his sleeve. Dawn's known that since the day she started working for him.

  
But that statement seems false now, as the feline stares (blankly, it seems) at the road.

  
Something is wrong with this picture.

 

"So," He says after an eternity. "How were the last few months?"  
"Bearable."

  
He hums.  
"That's good to hear."

  
Silence again.

  
Dawn's never been one for small talk (always thought it was unnecessary anyway). She was someone who preferred to get right to the point. So she does.  
  
"You're never this quiet."  
"I thought my talking got on your nerves." The lion chuckles halfheartedly.  
"This is because of the last time, isn't it?"

  
He sighs.

The incident in question digs up a shallow memory in both of their heads of a scene that takes place just over five months ago.  
She doesn't really remember how it all started. In the days that followed, she'd focused all of her energy solely on trying to repress the memory.

But she never did get very far, of course -- everything else can be recalled with perfect clarity. Here, a nerve is touched; there, a line is tripped over, and _there_ a conversation devolves into a _shouting match_ ; soured so badly that it leaves a bitter taste in both of their mouths for weeks on end. He hadn't contacted her at all since then; which she had been pretty grateful for. (At first, anyway.)

  
The memory makes her chest ache with the kind of pain that isn't really, truly _there_ but smarts all the same. She can feel it throbbing now; like a fresh bruise. Like a cavity.

  
The sound of her own voice rings in her ears.  
_I don't need your pity and I don't need you!_

  
"But you still came. " She looks up at him. "Why?"  
For a brief moment he turns his eyes to her, and they look heavy. Serious. Then he looks away.

  
"I didn't want to leave you like that."

  
A dirty red minivan passes them as the first couple of raindrops fall onto the window. Her head falls into her hoof.

  
"I'm sorry."  
"It's fine."  
"No, it isn't fine. You're always saying that 'things are fine' when they never really are. Why can't you ever just be straight with me?"  
"Look," Leodore's paws tighten around the steering wheel as he grits his teeth. Then he remembers his tone; relaxes. Starts over.  
"Look...Maybe we should just put this behind us right now. Just for a little while. Then we can come back and sort it out all out later. Alright?"  
"Fine."  
"Good." He pauses. "But in the meantime, I'm sorry too."

  
It gets quiet again.

.

  
It stays that way for a while.  
Every now and then, he tries to make an attempt at conversation, but it's a futile effort. He stops trying.

It's a very long hour.

  
Outside it rains heavily, and a ton of mammals caught in the downpour hold newspapers and other various items over their heads as they walk down the crowded street. The car stops.

  
He reaches behind his seat and hands her a small blue umbrella; purchased this morning after the forecast called for heavy rain all afternoon.

  
"You're probably going to want this."  
"Thanks..."  
"I guess I'll see you around, then?" He asks, and hopes that it doesn't sound a little desperate.

  
Her expression falters as a variety of emotions flicker across her face, but it's gone just as quickly.

  
"Sure."  
She gets out.

  
Leodore watches her as she disappears behind a corner, and is suddenly aware that he feels a bit more lonely than usual.  
(He isn't sure why.)

  
.

  
The apartment is beneath the first floor, and there's a little window that faces the sidewalk between a pair of stiff curtains. She flicks on the light switch; only to find that it's blown. From the little light that does stream into the room she can tell that the walls are pale and most likely white, but not clean. Dawn cringes, not knowing what bothers her more; the fact that she can hardly see or the fact that she's grateful for it.

  
She would think that this has all been inflicted on her on purpose. _Would;_ had it not been so obvious that her new landlady j _ust didn't give a damn_.

Nope, Dawn could tell from the rest of the building and the constantly bored look in her eyes that she would've rented this spot under a rock to anyone; former corrupt politician/biological terrorist or otherwise.

There's a bed that looks like it could've held mammal a few times her size, but probably can't anymore. It's fixed so that she's looking right at the door; which she stares at it for a long while before getting up and checking the lock again.

  
It's sticky, and she can hear the nails clatter in their place as she jiggles the lock. The sound of shouting and things falling comes from somewhere upstairs, and a few minutes later the one chair in the room is dragged over and propped up underneath the doorknob. She lies down again.

  
_you're_ free _now, but you certainly aren't out of the woods yet..._

Back in the earlier days of her confinement (and occasionally for long stretches of time a little while afterward), she used to sleep a lot. There was no real point in the day and nothing to get done, so time had lost its value pretty quickly. It was just a thing to chip away at; little by little, feverishly until the day it was all finally _over_. Then it just felt so easy; to drift off and not _feel_ or be aware of anything at all (not even herself) 

She'd gotten quite good at it too; once she'd been put in a single cell.

  
But sleep seems to avoid her now as her eyes wander to the umbrella in the corner; a still-damp memento from a mammal that she really shouldn't have wanted to see but ended up seeing anyway (if she hadn't known any better she'd say it was almost a relief to see him)

  
_funny how things turn out_...Is the last coherent thing that her brain puts together before she drifts off into an uneasy sleep.

 

Normally she doesn't dream, and tonight she doesn't either, but when she wakes up in pitch dark somewhere after one o'clock; she swears that every once in a while the thought of something gray or blue or gold would flit briefly behind her eyes.

  
Dawn turns onto her side again, and waits for sleep to return.  
Those things could be worried about tomorrow. 

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little something I've been tossing around in my head for a while to get the ball rolling between these two.  
> I don't really write that much, or that often, but I've been trying to do something about that lately so feel free to critique me or comment on any mistakes I might've made!


End file.
